The Best of Times, The Worst of Times (one-shot)
by Niamh Cunningham
Summary: "Who are you?" "Maggie. Or Margaret if you want to get cut. You?" "Tommy. Or Thomas if you want to get cut." "Nice to meet you, Thomas." "And you, Margaret."
1. Chapter 1

**Hello everyone! I originally posted this on tumblr and it had an overwhlemingly positive response. I'm planning a multi-chapter fic and wanted to experiment with some ideas - so feedback on this would be much appreciated!**

* * *

 _"What's that?" 14 year-old Thomas Shelby asked as he approached her. The boy had been playing a match of football with his brothers and a few friends when he noticed her sat beneath a tree. He recognised her as the sister of his friend and current team-mate, Charles Anderson._

 _The girl raised her head to look at him. She seemed startled by his arrival, almost dropping the object in her hands, but quickly covered her surprise by lifting it toward him, "It's called a book."_

 _Tommy was taken aback by her patronising tone. Did she really think he didn't know what a book was? He was on the verge of confronting her about it when he caught on to the playful glint in her eye. She was teasing him._

 _He held back a grin as he rolled his eyes, "I know it's a book. I meant, what are you reading?"_

 _She smiled up at him and turned the cover to face the boy, "'A Tale of Two Cities'."_

 _"Charlotte Brontë, right?" he prompted, trying to impress._

 _The girl giggled at his undoubting and somewhat cocky expression. She shook her head, "Dickens."_

 _"Oh," the boy's face fell in defeat, causing her sniggering to escalate. He moved to sit beside her and attempted to change the subject, "What's your name?"_

 _"Maggie. Or Margaret if you want to get cut," he raised a brow at her bluntness, though he could tell she was still just taunting, "Yours?"_

 _"Tommy. Or Thomas if_ you _want to get cut."_

 _The pair exchanged an approving smile as she extended her hand, "Nice to meet you, Thomas._ _"And you, Margaret," he replied as they briefly shook hands._

 _"You're a friend of Charles?" Maggie asked the boy beside her._

 _"Yeah, he's your brother, right?"_

 _She nodded, "And you're a Shelby?"_

 _"I am. How did you know?"_

 _"Lucky guess," she shrugged, "You have that way about you."_

 _"What 'way'?"_

 _"A pompous walk. Your brothers have it too."_

 _Tommy's brow creased in confusion, "What the bloody hell does 'pompous' mean?"_

 _"Arrogant, egotistic, boastful-"_

 _"Excuse me?" Tommy shot her an incredulous look._

 _She continued, "Conceited, flaunting, pretentious-"_

 _"Alright, I get it."_

 _She ignored him, "Flatulent, selfish, ostentatious-"_

 _"That's starting to get annoying."_

 _"Imperious, overbearing, supercilious-"_

 _"-Ok you made that one up. That's not a word."_

 _She then began to giggle again, laughing at the astounded expression on the boy's face. Tommy guffawed at her nerve. Even at 14, he wasn't used to people being so direct with him –especially a girl. He just stared at her, watching her laugh. Her cheeks had reddened and her eyes were creased shut. She had placed a hand over her stomach as she bent forward, her curls falling into her face. Eventually, despite his attempts to resist, Tommy found himself laughing too. The way her eyes glistened as they reopened ignited something within him. Pure joy seemed to invade his senses, making him forget, even just for a brief moment, all the misfortune his father was causing with his reckless antics. It had been a while since he had laughed like this._

 _Through his blurry eyes, Tommy noticed the book had fallen from her lap. He picked it up and studied it. Noticing his movements, Maggie turned to face the boy, still beaming. Her breath caught slightly as his eyes lifted from the book to reach her own. Just as her books would describe, they were a cloudless blue. Or perhaps they were azure whirlpools that she wished to dive into and drown in - she was certainly experiencing a similar spinning motion as he gazed at her. It was as if all the novels she had read were manifesting into reality and creating her own romantic hero._

 _"Read to me."_

 _His voice broke through her reverie. She blinked as she noted his arm outstretched, motioning for her to take the book back._

 _She felt the blood rush to her cheeks as she looked at him, perplexed, "What?"_

 _"Read to me," he replied. Tommy nudged her upper arm with the corner of the book._

 _She let out a short chuckle and hesitantly took the novel from him. As they passed it, their fingers barely brushed– but they certainly felt it. Their eyes snapped to lock onto each other's. Tommy's heart clenched. Maggie's skipped several beats. Both unknowingly held their breath. This was definitely something she had read in a novel. Frozen, the book remained held between their two bodies-_

 _THUMP!_

 _A football flew toward them at a powerful force and hit the tree above them, instantly destroying the moment. Their gazes broke to watch as the eldest Shelby brother ran toward them._

 _"Sorry, Tommy!" Arthur yelled as he retrieved the ball. He turned to throw Maggie a quick, apologetic smile before turning around and resuming the match._

 _Maggie released a long breath, almost grateful to have been distracted. The boy beside her cleared his throat and looked back to her, "So…read to me?"_

 _She dropped her gaze to the book before offering him a soft smile, "Sure."_

 _Tommy struggled to keep himself from grinning at his victory. He shuffled slightly to lie back in a more comfortable position on the grass._

 _"Just don't think I'm going to re-read the first 67 pages just so you can follow what's going on," she sneered, cheekily, "If you get confused, read it yourself."_

 _"Maybe I will," he found himself smiling at her, "It's no problem. Just pick up from where you left off."_

 _He watched eagerly as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and opened the book to the correct page. Quietly clearing her throat, she began, "'For you, and for any dear to you, I would do anything. I would embrace any sacrifice for you and for those dear to you. And when you see your own bright beauty springing up anew at your feet, think now and then that there is a man who would give his life, to keep a life you love beside you…'"_

* * *

The years progressed and the pair grew closer.

After the war, Tommy was not the same. No one was. He became riddled with nightmares. Blood, wires, mud, the _damn shovelling_. He hardly slept. The increasingly dark shade beneath his eyes was a clear indicator of that. The headaches too. He would not reveal any of this to the others, of course. No matter how much he craved comfort, he could not ruin his image. And so, he kept his torment to himself.

But Maggie knew. She worked it out for herself. He allowed her to. Maggie volunteered as a nurse. She was in France. She saw the horrors too.

Often she would stay late to clear up the betting shop for the boys. She would hear the whimpers and muffled yells coming from his room. Knocking gently and waiting for his approval, she would unobtrusively close the door behind her and sit beside him on the bed. After handing him a glass of water and placing a cool, wet towel on his head, she would reach over to his small bookshelf. After choosing a book, she would open it and begin to read. No other words would be spoken before or after. All he needed was reassurance that he was safe and not alone. He didn't need to explain himself. She understood. She was there for him.

In a complete contrast to his hot, heavy illusions, her serene tone created a calm, content atmosphere. The words would drip from her tongue into his hear and instantly numb his senses. Eventually, this ease would allow him to drift into unconsciousness.

He would wake to find her gone. However, the book would always be placed on the table beside him as a reminder of her visit, like a notification that she was genuinely present. It would become a regular occurrence. They had silently agreed to never discuss what happened the next day. It was their private, almost nightly ritual. They wanted to separate the War from their civilian lives. There was no need for it to distract them from their day-to-day lives.

* * *

On this particular day, Tommy knocked on her apartment door. She opened it with a warm smile, "Tommy! What can I do for you?"

"There is a family counsel at 6 this evening. Be there," and with that, he began to walk away.

She called out, "But, I'm not family. What's going on?"

He stopped on the street and turned back to her. There was a hint of playfulness in his eye as he spoke, "'Family not only needs to consist of those whom we share blood, but also for those whom we would give blood.'"

Maggie stood bewildered in her doorway before a grin brightened her features. He had to suppress his own smirk.

"Thomas Michael Shelby," she drawled in astonishment, "Did you just quote Dickens to me?"

Tommy turned from her confounded expression and sauntered down the street without a word.

Maggie let out a short laugh as she watched his retreating form. Once he had turned the corner, she closed her door and reflected on what he had said. Their relationship had now gone beyond acquaintances. Beyond _friendship_ , in fact. He considered her family.

That night, Tommy stopped by Maggie's apartment. She had not been present at the family meeting and he came to find out why. Knocking on her door, he called out for her. No response.

He knocked again. No response…except for the small sound of female weeping.

His heart began to beat wildly. His mind became frenzied and swam with endless disastrous scenarios. Before he could consider any other action, he ran to her back door she always forgot to lock and barrelled into her front room. His heart shattered at what he saw.

As a victim himself, he recognised the symptoms almost immediately. Maggie was sat in the corner of the room. Her knees huddled to her chest. Her arms gripped onto them so fiercely that the nails seemed to be breaking skin. Pale tear marks streaked her dark red eyes were sore, wide and staring straight at him. Her cries had quietened.

As if realising he had caught her, she suddenly struggled to her feet and wiped at her wet cheeks. She looked guilty. Her eyes remained glazed as she tried to avoid his.

"T-Tommy?" she spoke, her voice timid and almost inaudible. It was not the smooth and confident voice that read to him every night. That's when he realised; she was broken. Like him, the War had ruined her.

"Maggie," he greeted, attempting to keep his voice strong and assuring.

"Wh-What are you doing here?" she sniffed.

"You weren't at the meeting. I came to see if you were alright."

"Oh," she wiped at her eyes with her sleeve again and attempted to smile at him. She failed.

"Maggie?" he called to her, gently.

"I'm sorry about the meeting, I completely forgot," she quickly replied, as if trying to avoid the question he would no doubt ask.

"Maggie."

"I was just…cleaning the apartment," she avoided his gaze and looked behind him, "Did you break my door?"

"Maggie."

She made to move to the door, "Because if you did, you know you're paying for a new one, right? Because I don't have the mon-"

He reached out for her arm as she passed. The touch made her freeze and turn to him suddenly. Tommy almost flinched as her red-rimmed eyes locked onto his.

"Maggie."

She knew what he was going to ask. She closed her eyes and took a breath.

"Are you alright?"

There it was.

"I'm fine," she tried to say as convincingly as possible. It didn't work.

"You don't look fine."

"Then stop looking," she almost spat.

Tommy simply continued to looked at her, unconvinced by the bravado she tried to portray. His gaze seemed to snap something in her and she burst into tears again, shaking her head frantically.

Tommy reached out for her. She felt his cool palm press against her burning cheek. The other hand found its way to the back of her head and cradled it to his chest. Easing into his arms, Maggie allowed herself to sob. This was the first time she had cried in front of someone else since she was young. Even after the news of Charles' death, she refused to let others see her this way. She wasn't sure why. Maybe she was scared people would see it as a weakness. Being a nurse on the front line did not allow for tears. She had a job to do and she had to get it done. There was no time to grieve. But without the War, there was nothing to distract her from thinking of what she had witnessed.

Her hands gripped onto his upper arms, as if to stable was then that he noticed her legs were shaking uncontrollably. Tommy was worried she would fall. Removing his hands from her face, he reached down and picked her up behind the legs. Once she had wrapped her arms around his neck, he led her to the bed and lay her down. Once she had manoeuvred under the covers, he knelt beside the mattress.

Reaching out for her hand, he looked at her sincerely, "If you don't want to talk about it, that's alright. I understand. Just don't lie to me and tell me you're 'fine'."

She just looked back at him for a moment with those red eyes before slightly nodding her head. Tommy nodded too and made to move away, but she tightened her grip on his hand.

"Stay," she whispered.

Maggie watched as Tommy looked down at her before gently removing his palm from her hold. He began to walk away. He was going to leave her in this state. Maggie wasn't angry with him for that decision. He was a busy man with things to do. Also, seeing her in this state may awaken his _own_ trauma. That's the last thing she wanted.

Closing her eyes, she saw the haunting images. Maggie allowed more silent tears to leak from beneath her eyelids. They only re-opened when she felt a pressure on the mattress beside her. Fluttering her eyes open, she saw Tommy had returned…with a book.

He had gone to the shelf in the next room and picked up 'Great Expectations'. How could he leave her in this state? Especially after all she had done for him. He wasn't sure how to handle it. Tommy wasn't exactly an expert when it came to dealing with emotions. So, he decided to start by trying out her technique. Besides, it worked for him, didn't it?

He climbed onto the bed and sat beside where she lay. He crossed his legs, opened the page she had marked as her current place and cleared his throat.

Tommy began to read, "'love her, love her, love her. If she follows you, love her. If she wounds you, love her. If she tears your heart to pieces – and as it gets older and stronger, it will tear deeper – love her, love her, love her.'"

He paused when he heard her sniffs cease and breaths even out. Looking down beside him, Tommy saw that Maggie was asleep. Her face, although still blotchy, was showing signs of returning to its regular pallor. She looked at peace.

Gently sliding from the mattress, he placed the book on her bedside table, as she always did for him. Looking back to her, he could not resist reaching out to brush the hair from her forehead. He found his fingers tenderly caressing her cheek for another minute, before he leaned over and placed his lips delicately to the side of her mouth. Without a word and cautiously avoiding making any sound, he picked up his cap, angled it on his head and left the apartment.

The words he had read resonated as he made his way home: _love her, love her, love her._


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello everyone! Thank you for all of your feedback! I am overwhelmed by the positive response! Because of this, I have been persuaded to develop this into a full, multi-chapter story, which you can read on my profile! Thanks again!**


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